In Remembrance
by chocolatecheesecakes
Summary: After a long day of spying in Vernon and Petunia Dursley, the last thing Minerva McGonagall needs is a stiff back. But with the Butterbeer comes the memories… Written for Transfiguration


**Hello!**

**This was written for Transfiguration again****! **

**Brief lesson: ****This week we are going to learn a little bit about the known professors that have taught Transfiguration over the years. Both of these professors are very well known to the magical world. One of them being Albus Dumbledore, defeater of Grindelwald and leader of the light and to some, a manipulative old coot. The other well-known professor is Minerva McGonagall, a fierce witch in her own right, a rare animagus, talented professor, deputy headmistress and headmistress. She may have been luckless in love, but she never ceased in doing her best by her students.**

**Task: ****Write about either Albus Dumbledore or Minerva McGonagall.**

**Word count: ****a 1,000 words and up**

**Please review! The word count is… 1072!**

In Remembrance 

"Minerva."

Minerva McGonagall nodded sombrely, taking the Butterbeer from Madam Rosmerta and taking a large sip. "Today is a sad day for us all, Rosmerta."

Rosmerta raised one carefully shaped eyebrow. "Then I take it the rumours are not true?" She asked carefully. "That He is defeated? That young Harry Potter is the saviour of us all?"

"The rumours are indeed true, Rosmerta." Minerva sighed, swirling the golden liquid around in her flagon, in a vain hope that she might see the bottom. "At least, if the parties in the street, the laughter, the fires made of all You-Know-Who's propaganda is to be truly believed."

Rosmerta watched Minerva swirl the liquid around for a few more moments, before she sighed, picked up the empty tray, and left the room, the door swinging shut behind herself, shutting Minerva in the room with only her Butterbeer for company.

Once there was a click, and the wood of the door and the doorframe had safely crashed against one another with a muted thud, Minerva sighed deeply, and set her flagon on the table in front of her. She lay her wand to the left of it – a nervous habit that Moody had ingrained in each of the Order members after Marlene McKinnon was caught without a wand, tortured and killed horribly – and let her eyes linger on the natural patterns created by the oak that made the coffee table.

Lily and James…

Minerva _knew _that war could be terribly, terribly cruel. She had lived through this one at any rate, and even though the threat had passed, the legend of Voldemort had become no more-

Lily, and James Potter. A great witch and wizard, with a son who would now bare the mark of 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'. All because someone (Minerva didn't know who had been the Potter's secret keeper, but she wished she had known so she could go and strangle them herself) couldn't keep their mouth shut.

To the people on the street, the ones that were dancing and singing, Lily and James were no more than just the horrific outcomes of war. But to Minerva, who had taught them, seen them grow, and held their infant son in her very own arms…

She had already lost too many people in her life. Minerva took another gulp of her Butterbeer to hide the tears pricking in her eyes, even though she was alone with her thoughts.

_Minerva was young, when she entered the Ministry. Just twenty-six. There were many her senior in the office she was assigned to, including her supervisor. _

_ Elphinstone Urquhart. The kindly man with the hands that were out-of-proportion with the rest of him, and the long, angular nose that on which balanced his glasses. _

_ "Who do we have here then?" He had said, in that booming voice. "Minerva McGonagall?"_

_ Minerva was never one to hold back, so she nodded, picking her head up high. "Yes." _

_ There were a few shouts of laughter that did nothing to break Minerva's resolve. She was going to do this. Albus had specially recommended her. And she _would _do this. No one was going to stop Minerva McGonagall._

"And I did do it, didn't I Elphinstone?" Minerva sighed, speaking aloud to the otherwise silent room. Then she looked back down at the table, and brushed the tears off her face. "Stupid of me, really."

Then it became almost crystal clear that, in fact, the room was not quite yet silent. There was an almost… buzz in the air. And it was most definitely a reminder. Because Lily and James were not the two gifted, amazing people that Minerva knew them to be to everyone, to many they were just… People.

More countless people to leave to the body count. Minerva allowed herself a quiet sob, before quietly drowning it in a gulp from her flagon. There were two halves to this, but it didn't mean it hurt any less for her.

One side of the Galleon, You-Know-Who was dead, and gone. Hopefully for good. But the other side was darker, and a lot more bleak. Minerva turned the key in the lock in her brain, and let the memories through, in full force, in a way they had not done for close to ten years.

_"Did you ever consider what it would be like, if I could have children?" Minerva murmured, looking up from her book to peer at her husband almost anxiously. "Elphinstone?"_

_Elphinstone laughed, straightening up from his spot in front of the fireplace and shrugging. "No, because I still love you Minnie. Remember that?"_

Minerva almost pulled away, but soon she was down back beneath them. Memories of her late husband, even of _that Muggle_, who had almost changed her whole life with his blue eyes and his large smile. She shivered, because what would it be like if she had chosen Dougal MacGregor?

And that was why those memories stayed buried. Minerva nervously re-arranged her hair, as if it might have moved from it's bun – a hairstyle she adopted once her students (James and Sirius) began to turn it different colours.

But it had stayed, and Minerva smiled for a split second. Well, at least her methods of keeping her school and love lives separate were successful. She doubted that anyone but Dumbledore knew of her… affiance with _that Muggle._

Minerva started. Then she glanced at her watch. She was due to meet Dumbledore in a matter of minutes. Maybe she could get back fast enough so he wouldn't realise that she had taken a slight break from watching the Muggles that Harry James Potter had to live with.

Stiff backs weren't great, especially when you started to get old, and Minerva knew that she was old now, by anyone's standards. Grey hairs (that would be the Marauders talking) and wrinkles in her skin, and a scowl that lived on her face. And a stiff back might keep that scowl on for the rest of her life, if Minerva wasn't careful.

Dumbledore was never late, so Minerva left a gathering of knuts on the table, next to her empty flagon, and resolved to thank Rosmerta the next time she stopped by The Three Broomsticks. And then she apparated to Privet Drive, and morphed into her cat form, before closing her eyes and waiting for Albus Dumbledore to arrive and condemn the Saviour of the Wizarding World to three ghastly Muggles.


End file.
